


Wolves Among The Sheep

by BuckyBarnes8999



Series: The Unmade [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Blood Kink, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Knifeplay, M/M, Pain and injury, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stabbing, Strangulation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21884842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyBarnes8999/pseuds/BuckyBarnes8999
Summary: Bucky has been on the run for a month, sleeping rough, starving and sick. He finally makes it to what he believes to be a safe haven.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: The Unmade [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570627
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Wolves Among The Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags, you've been warned.
> 
> Join me on discord! https://discord.gg/WveYwps

Bucky couldn't believe his misfortune.  
After a month of running he was at the end of the road. A dead end. 

A cell.

He'd ran so hard, he'd played it so safe. 

He'd starved himself to avoid encountering people. He'd slept in gutters and underbrush.

Now he was in a cell. 

On top of that he was feverish. His head swam, something vile was leaking from his severed left arm. A mix of rust and biology.

For the fifth time that day he found himself waking up without having remembered when he'd fallen asleep. 

Though this time unlike the others there were combat boots in front of his face when he opened his eyes. 

"Your request was granted." It was a female agent, one he hadn't seen before. She had her dark hair pulled back tight and held an almost disinterested look on her face. At least it wasn't the malice he'd seen on other's faces. The bootprints had faded but the memory remained. "Can't say why they're indulging you but I'm here to collect you." 

He made to get up but slumped forward, the shift in position sent a hot shock of pain through what was left of his arm. It was such a violent pain that it made him retch. 

The agent stepped back as if to protect her boots should something actually come up.

But of course there was nothing. Bucky had refused anything offered to him for fear of poison.  
He had thought he could trust this place. He'd traveled so far. He'd been so weary. But when he arrived he saw familiar faces. Faces that would haunt him  
The faces of Hydra, interspersed with all these unfamiliar ones. 

He knew it was only a matter of time before he was killed or worse. He'd made a desperate request, a meeting. 

He made sure to speak to only people he didn't know. 

But when Brock Rumlow stepped into his cell on his second morning he knew it was over. He knew The Red Skull knew where he was.  
When he was The Soldier it was almost easy to take abuse but, now that he had a modicum of autonomy it was unbearable. 

Four days passed. 

Four days of nothing. Torturous nothing.

Now he looked up at the agent who now introduced herself as Agent Hill and she was telling him his wild request was granted. 

He lay on the floor panting with the effort it was taking just to exist.  
Was this their plan? Have him incoherent, half dead and half mad for this meeting? Make him seem unreliable?

"Do you need help up? He's not going to wait forever." 

"I. . . I got it." He certainly didn't have it but he made an effort to get up, surprising himself when he actually managed. "Let's go?" 

He had to lean against the wall to walk and it was slow going. Twice he almost blacked out twice he almost slid back to the floor.  
But Agent Hill was indeed serious about helping.  
After that second time she wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady him. "I don't know why you won't accept our medical help." She said with a hint of an edge to her voice.

"Hydra. They're everywhere." He stated, but she didn't understand exactly what he meant, exactly what 'everywhere' was. It was obvious to her that the man was paranoid, delusional, probably with the fever or worse.

"Well you're going to die. To put it bluntly." 

"I've figured that out." He grunted as he was helped into a cold steel chair. 

He felt his flesh and blood wrist being cuffed to the chair. His feet too were fettered. Overkill considering the state he was in.  
Agent Hill seemed to read his mind. "Precautionary." She stated as she stepped away. She put a few file folders on the table before him and was gone.

He hadn't realized he'd even closed his eyes until a dull, heavy and entirely unique metal clang woke him. His eyes were slow to focus but when they did they went wide.  
All the black and reaching tentacles were gone. The Captain's shield was decidedly different but no. . . Wasn't this how it was supposed to be?

For some reason tears welled in Bucky's eyes at the sight of the red white and blue. His hand wanted to reach out and touch it but of course he was down one and the other was chained. 

"Jesus, could have told me he was on deaths door." A lithe man dropped into the chair opposite Bucky. "Hi. You with me?" He waved his hand. 

Bucky's vision was dangerously dim.  
"Are they listening? Everyone?"

"Do you need them not to? You seemed really insistent on meeting me. Although. . . We have met before, briefly. Unpleasant circumstances."

"These pleasant?"

"Hm, I'd say any time where I have the advantage and Captain Hydra's leash pet isn't trying to kill me is pleasant." He was absently thumbing through the files in front of him.

"Listen, Stark." His head was spinning, the room going dim. "Please. They're here. Hydra. R-rumlow, Rollins. . . They're Hydra. I thought I left them back at base. But they're here. I don't have a lot of time." He pleaded.

Stark was listening intently. He was unsure about wether or not to believe him or of it was the fever he obviously had talking.  
"If that's true, you likely just killed yourself."

"I did that the moment I ran away. I did that the moment I took that shield." He coughed and every time he did so his vision blacked.

"Question. Entirely off subject but I need to know." Stark was staring intently at him.  
"How are you this sick? You're enhanced, right, serum?" 

"A shitty copy. I have to be dosed if I'm off ice for very long. Or transfused. With his blood." He nodded toward the shield. 

"Can we help you?"

"You'll help me by saving him." 

Stark leaned forward and in a low and aggressive whisper he addressed Bucky. "You just dropped a ton of bricks on me about SHIELD. If it's true I need a more coherent statement. You need to get well." 

Bucky actually found himself laughing. "They know I'm here already. And if I _wasn't_ already dead from running, I was dead when I walked in the door. Out of the frying pan, right? Anyone in here could be Hydra. I let any one of them touch me and I'm gone." 

Stark considered all this for a long moment. "If. . ." He began slowly. "If you can live for a day more." He held up his finger. "Just one. Would you let me take care of you?" 

Just a day. 

How fucking insurmountable that felt. 

"Half." Bucky slurred. 

"One." Stark locked him in a gaze that was practically telepathic. How could one man communicate so well with just his eyes?  
It wouldn't be a full day, but that's what Stark was wanting it to look like that's what they'd agreed on.

Bucky nodded. "One day, Stark." 

"In the meantime. Take this." Stark offered him an oblong pill. "For the fever." 

It was obviously a test to see if Bucky really trusted him. Fuck, if it was going to kill him it didn't matter. If Stark was out to get him the world was doomed. 

He opened his mouth and Stark put the pill on his tongue. Bucky had half expected him to be aggressive, or to do something lewd like the Hydra agents would have. But the fingers were in and out of his mouth without taking any liberties.  
Bucky immediately swallowed, taking the pill down dry.  
Stark kept reading the files for a few minutes but he was obviously thinking about other things. "It's not just mech or a prosthetic is it? It's integrated cybernetics. Part of you?" 

"What? My... Oh. Yeah. My arm. Right." Bucky was becoming less lucid.  
Stark frowned.  
"I'll let you get back to it then." He stood up promising just one day again before he left.

They let him sleep right there in the chair.  
When he came to he was incredibly sore but his head was almost not so dizzy. 

It wasn't Hill that lead him out into the hall. His heart hitched that it was a familiar face.  
Rumlow roughly manhandled him down the hall. "Boss says to clean you up so we don't have to change the sheets again." Why was he acting like he didn't know him? Like he didn't know Bucky knew him?

He was shoved hard into a white tiled bathroom. He couldn't keep his balance, not down one arm and aching with fever.  
"So this what 'out on rotation' means, Rumlow? Being a double agent for Hydra?"  
It explained the blessed days when Rumlow wasn't at the Hydra compound. He always got the worst abuse from him. 

"Awful chatty for a dog aren't you, _Soldier_?" He looked over at Bucky as he lay prone on the floor. 

It was almost surreal to watch as Rumlow went to a steel locker and began to take things from it. A pair of sweatpants a soft looking tee-shirt, soap, shampoo and towels. Almost like he was enjoying doing the actual job he was sent to do.  
"Can you strip out of that or do you need help?" 

It almost made Bucky sick with fear the way he spoke. He knew the bad was coming. How could it not?  
He made a desperate attempt at getting his clothes off. He briefly got tangled in the thin tank top he wore. The pants were easier, he'd had practise getting them off one handed. 

When he was naked on the floor, breathing hard for his efforts, Rumlow circled him. Now that predatory look was there. It was almost comforting after the unnerving gentility. "You know. I know what you're trying to do. But I just gotta tell ya. I don't know how much of your precious Captain there's left to save." He smiled, twisted and cruel at the reaction Bucky couldn't hide.

"W-what do you mean?" Bucky asked unable to control himself. Unable to temper down the distress in his voice.

"Well, if you're sweet for me, I'll tell ya." His hand ran through Bucky's matted, greasy hair. He wrinkled his nose. "Filthy bitch." 

His whole body hurt, the cold tile felt like ice on his back. He couldn't fight anything Rumlow decided to do to him. 

"I just wanna. . ." Rumlow slipped a knife out of his boot. "Carve you up real pretty." He dropped heavily to his knees and made the first cut right under Bucky's chin, following his jawline.  
Bucky cried out in pain, twisting his body in an effort to get away from the wicked little knife.  
The more he fought, the more Rumlow seemed to enjoy it. The more his weak and possibly dying body thrashed, the wider Rumlow's smile got.  
He'd cut a crisscross pattern down Bucky's neck, just shallow enough to miss major arteries.  
"Gotta say. I like this malfunctioning version of you, Soldier. You're beautiful when you scream for me." The tip of the knife pressed to Bucky's chest pushing in slowly til the skin relented, splitting against the razor sharp metal.  
Bucky couldn't help but scream. His eyes were streaming. He swore he could hear  
as well as feel the knife hit bone.  
This time when the knife was removed, Rumlow leaned forward, his tongue, flattened and sloppily wet first made contact with Bucky's right nipple then slid up til it swiped over the cut.  
Bucky twisted, trying to get away from the sensation. "No!" He managed crying out.  
Rumlow just laughed, his tongue coming back down to flick over Bucky's nipple. 

Bucky choked out little gasping sobs. He remembered all the abuse at the hands of this man but, somehow it felt more like a dream. This was harsh, vivid, Technicolor reality. 

The tip of the knife played over his skin, drawing little patterns that sometimes nicked the skin and bled. Little beads of red gracing his skin. Liquid rubies. 

Bucky was so dizzy now, his vision was fading from the infection settled so deep in him and the loss of blood.

Rumlow was speaking--- or course he was, he barely shut up during these little sessions. 

Bucky realized he was scared. There wasn't anyone to reign Rumlow in. The Captain wasn't there to help. To say when it was enough. 

Why was this happening? What sick fucking point was the universe trying to make?

"I wonder if I can shove my dick up your ass now, you little whore, now that you're broken and nobody's here to stop me." Those words Bucky easily picked up on. 

"No!" He wailed, trying to curl up. All the aborted movement did was crack open all the wounds on his torso and thighs. 

Rumlow laughed as he roughly flipped him over.  
"Here," he chuckled wickedly. "Hold this for me, baby." He stabbed the little knife in to the hilt into Bucky's shoulder blade.  
Bucky felt the air driven out of him. He gasped feebly, nearly blacking out at the pain.  
He'd been stabbed before sure, but never like this, never lucid, never when he was already so sick. 

The next sensation is that of Rumlow's teeth on his bare ass, biting savagely.  
Bucky hadn't even been able to get his breath back from the stab. He choked and clawed at the tile. He felt hot wetness running down his ass, wondering if it was blood or Rumlow's spit. Probably the former. 

Blood from all the various points that bled on his body was running thickly over the tile, snaking it's way through the channels of the grout. 

Rumlow's belt jingled as it was removed. "Who's bitch dog are you now?" 

Bucky had been bracing for the pain of it being slapped over his ass. He actually gasped when it happened though. It was always a shock how cruelly Rumlow could use the simple leather instrument. It hurt as much as any whip designed for this.  
It left bloodied, raised welts over his already bleeding ass cheeks.  
His cries of pain, of sheer agony were music to Rumlow's ears.  
He'd rarely been able to draw a reaction out of this body sprawled before him. Now it was just _intoxicating_.  
He reached up, yanked the knife out and wet his hand with the blood that poured anew.  
The knife was replaced, drawing a shrill shriek from Bucky. 

Rumlow used Bucky's blood to slick up his dick. He knew it really wasn't a good lube substitute, in fact it would do the opposite of what lube would do once it started to dry.  
He didn't care. It'd ease the entry and after that he _really_ didn't care if it hurt The Soldier or not. 

It almost hurt his cock the force he had to exert to get inside. The chorus of screams and protests the man beneath him cried out made it worth it.  
"No! Please stop! I -I don't want this! I don't- _please, please Rumlow, don't!_ "  
And the scream when he finally forced the head of his cock inside was almost enough to make Rumlow cum right then and there.  
He paused, just letting himself enjoy the feeling of the other's ass spasming around him. 

Bucky sobbed raggedly his vision was gone now. Hazy, almost-blackness was all his waking eyes saw.  
His existence was a singular point and that was the agony his ass was in.  
He knew for a fact that he'd ripped, knew for a fact that the only reason Rumlow was able to pound into him with the voracity he currently was was due to the ready supply of fresh blood. He could feel it, running down his balls, pooling on the floor, cooling in the air.  
He was screaming, he knew that much. Begging him to just stop or to finish _anything_ that would get him _out_. 

When the belt loops around his neck he knows he's going to die.  
Rumlow was going to fuck him quite literally to death, and Rumlow was going to enjoy every second of it.

The pretense of getting him clothes, asking if he needed help, all felt absolutely sinister to Bucky now. Rumlow was as fucked up in the head as Schmitt. 

His consciousness was fading, his body was starting to twitch and spasm of it's own accord. He could taste blood now, it welled up in his mouth.

Everything was feeling strangely light, the pain was fading with his ebbing life. 

A sound cut through the fog in his head. A sharp _THWIP_. 

He was aware only vaguely that he was dropped to the floor, vaguely aware of the terrible feeling of Rumlow's cock leaving his ass far too quickly. 

Even more vaguely aware of hands undoing the belt at his neck. Calloused hands patting his face. 

He could hear "hey, hey I've got you." Like it was far away down a tunnel. 

The person, a man, was speaking again but it wasn't to him.

Bucky just wanted to close his eyes so bad, to rest, to slip away, but those hands kept lightly patting his face as soon as his eyes rolled shut. "you gotta stay awake" he heard him say. 

Why would he want to do that? He was so tired. 

He heard running heavy footsteps, no, not just heavy, _metallic_. "Barton?! You got him?" That was Stark's voice. Bucky was able to register that. 

"I got him." The man by his side said.  
Bucky felt himself being lifted.

Barton was surprised at how light Barnes was. He didn't even _look_ like The Winter Soldier. Surely this wasn't the same man he'd fought numerous times. The man who could catch his arrows, the man who could shoot any gun he came across with a deadly accuracy. The man Nat seemed to be no match for in hand to hand.  
This was practically a _corpse_. 

"Tony, I don't think he's gonna make it much longer." 

"Get him to the jet." 

There was a commotion behind Stark, mostly higher ups of SHIELD over intercoms demanding him to stand down, wondering why he was kidnapping their prisoner. 

He hadn't acted on what Bucky had told him just yet, acted like he had no inkling Hydra might be there. 

When they were gone he had to turn off his phone. He could explain later. If there was a later.

On the jet he looked over at Barton. He'd been too scared or traumatized by what he saw to put Bucky down. He still held the frail, shell of a man to his body. 

"Clint?" Tony tried, but Barton just gave him a withering look. 

"How could this happen inside SHIELD? How could it happen unless what he'd said is true?" Bucky felt unnervingly cold against his skin. He was half sure he was cradling a body at this point. 

"We'll see when we get him awake." Tony stated flatly

"If. If he wakes up."

"Yeah." Tony looked down at his sneakers. "Yeah, if he wakes up."

______________________

Brock Rumlow woke up in the med bay.  
The worried eyes of Rollins snapped up when he stirred.  
Immediately before Rumlow could even say anything sappy about how pretty Rollins was when he was worried, Rollins was holding his shoulders down  
"Calm down!" Rollins was saying hurriedly. 

Brock was calm though, wasn't he? 

If he was telling him something preemptively he knew it was bad.  
A pain in his lower abdomen when he shifted made his eyes go wide. "The fuck did they do?" His voice was breathless. All he remembered was fucking that animal and then an arrow. . . 

"Babe, we'll make this work. We always have yeah?" Rollins peppered Brock's face with soft kisses. 

Brock let his hand slip down under the covers and settle between his legs.

His wild scream echoed.


End file.
